Little Boy Lost
by cindy123
Summary: Dean loses Sammy. Weechester one-shot.


**Well, here I go again. Trying to write the next chapter of my multichapter fic and I get distracted when this little story pops into my head. I had to get it down or I would never be able to concentrate on anything else. This was written in about an hour and a half so don't expect too much. Disclaimer: I own none of the characters you recognize from the series Supernatural nor did any money exchange hands.**

**Cindy**

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**Little Boy Lost**

"But, Deeeeaaaan!" Sam whined as he held himself, the little boy dancing from foot to foot as he stared up at his big brother. "I's gotsta gooooo…"

Dean shook his head and looked down at his little brother and gave out a short huff. "Geez, Sammy…why ya always gotta go just when I'm at the highest level?" he snapped before turning back to the video game he was playing.

"I's don' know, Dean…I's gotsta go!" Sam cried, his dance getting more urgent with each passing second.

"Then go! Just go, Sam!" Dean shot, his eyes never leaving the video game.

Sam stared up at his brother, his heart pounding in his little chest at hearing the anger in Dean's voice. He wanted to stay, to wait for the older boy, but his bladder was not being at all patient so he turned away and hurried off to find the nearest restroom. Sam sighed in relief when he spotted one just across from the arcade. He scuttled through the heavy crowd of shoppers and pushed into the bathroom. Once he had finished his business, he made his way to the sink and washed his hands, just like his daddy had told him. He pulled the door to the restroom open and just as he started to walk out, he felt a strong hand grab his arm painfully and begin to drag him away from the restroom and the arcade just across the way. Before he could cry out, another hand was clapped over his mouth and he was shoved forward, none of the busy holiday shoppers even taking notice of the small boy being manhandled by the large man in the long black coat.

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"Dean, you ready to go?" John's gruff voice called from the entrance of the arcade, causing the boy to look his way in surprise.

"Uh…yeah," he said as he heard the telltale sound that he had been killed, thus ending his reign on his favorite video game.

"Okay…get your brother and let's get out of here. You know I hate malls," John replied as he stood at the entrance and waited for his sons.

"Yeah…okay," Dean said then turned to get his brother. "Come on, Sammy, lets…" he said, his eyes suddenly widening when there was no little brother to be seen.

"Dean…hurry up!" John called, the man sensing something was wrong when wide green eyes turned to look at him, fear making them glisten with moisture. He hurried to his son, his heart beating frantically even though he had no clue what was wrong. "Dean…what…where's Sammy?"

"I don't…he was right here! He was…oh God…" Dean stammered, his eyes darting around the arcade, the boy starting to breathe heavily with panic.

"Dean! Focus…when was the last time you saw him?" John shot as he began to drag Dean through the arcade, his dark eyes straining to see into every dark corner, hoping against hope that his baby would be hiding behind one of the many game machines.

"I…uh…he was right there! Right beside the game. He said he had to go to the…oh no! I…oh God…" Dean cried as he jerked out of his father's grasp and turned toward the entrance to the arcade, his feet making no haste in running toward the restroom across from them.

"Dean!" John shouted as he hurried after his son. He caught up with Dean just as the boy crashed through the restroom door and began to scream his brother's name.

"Sammy! You in here, kiddo?"

"Dean…what…"

"Sammy had to go to the bathroom, but I…I was on the top level of the game…I screwed up, Dad! I told him to go! I just wanted to finish…I didn't think he really would…"

"You what!? You told him to go off on his own? He's only five years old! Son of a bitch!" John shouted as he began to shove each stall door open in the hopes of finding his missing son.

"He's not here…where could he be? Oh my God…Sammy…where are you?" Dean cried softly when he realized his baby brother was not in the restroom.

John grabbed Dean's arm and made the boy look up at him. "Dean…you aren't helping. How long ago did Sam ask to go to the bathroom?"

"He uh…I don't know…fifteen minutes maybe?" Dean answered in a small, frightened voice.

"Sh*t…if someone took him, they could already be gone with him," John hissed as he hurried from the restroom, his eldest son in tow behind him.

"Dad…do you think someone took him? Maybe he just got turned around and got lost. Maybe we should tell mall security so they can help us find him," Dean said, the panic building in him at the thought that someone could have taken his brother away from him.

John was just about to answer when he stopped abruptly and knelt down on the floor. He reached down toward the floor and Dean craned his head over John's shoulder to see what had drawn the man's attention. He sucked in a startled breath when he saw Sam's small, worn teddy bear in John's large hand.

"Oh God, Dad…he would never go without Bunky…not unless…" Dean started, his voice trailing off as panic turned into outright terror at what could be happening to his sweet little brother at that very moment.

John stared down at his terrified son, the teddy bear clutched tightly in his hand. "We'll find him, Dean. Nothing's going to happen to him, okay?" he said, praying that he was telling his eldest boy the truth.

John looked first one way then the other, the man having no idea which way they should go to start looking for his baby boy. If they went the wrong way, they could lose Sam forever and he could not live with that. Not for one second. Suddenly, they heard sirens from outside the nearest mall entrance and John just knew it had something to do with his Sammy. He grabbed Dean's arm again and hurried toward the entrance. The two burst through swinging doors, their eyes immediately finding the police cars that had pulled up behind a dark blue van. John hurried toward the scene, Dean right behind him, his eyes going wide at the drawn weapons the police held aimed at something on the ground they couldn't see.

An ambulance, it's siren blaring, pulled in on the other side of the police cars, the paramedics exiting the vehicle, but staying put as if waiting to be given the okay to come closer. John sidled up to a bystander and eased Dean up to his side. "What's going on?" he asked as his dark eyes strained to see what was happening on the other side of the police cars.

The woman glanced in his direction then down at the boy beside him and shook her head. "I'm not sure, but I heard someone say that this man tried to manhandle a little boy into his van. The kid started screaming and fighting…"

"The kid can't be more than four or five, but he fought like he'd been trained or something," a man who stood just a few feet away said.

John turned toward him, thus dismissing the woman, and narrowed his dark eyes. "You saw it? What does the kid look like?" he asked urgently.

"Uh…small, dark shaggy hair. He really didn't want to get into that van," the man answered, but John and Dean were already headed around the police cars at the mention of dark, shaggy hair.

John just cleared one police car when he was grabbed by the arm and turned around. "Hey! Where do you think you're going?" a middle aged looking officer queried, his hand resting on the butt of his gun that was holstered at his hip.

"My son…that man tried to take my baby!" John snapped as he jerked his arm out of the officer's grip.

"What? Oh…oh crap…"

"Is he okay? Is my little brother okay?" Dean cried, his green eyes darting around, searching for the little boy that was his whole world.

"He's shaken up, but from what we were told, he put up quite the fight," the officer answered as he looked down at the pale, freckled face peering up at him.

"Where is he? Where's my boy?" John queried impatiently, his need to get to his son growing as the seconds ticked away.

The officer looked over toward the van then turned back to the two Winchesters. "Looks like the paramedics are checking him over," he answered.

John and Dean both whipped their heads toward the ambulance and both started moving when the caught a quick glimpse of shaggy hair before the paramedics blocked their view. The officer hurried after them, knowing he couldn't leave them to run around the crime scene unattended as he wasn't even sure they were who they said they were. John approached the ambulance first, followed closely by Dean, and tried to push past the paramedics to get to his son.

"Sammy!" he shouted, fighting as the two paramedics tried to hold him back.

"Sir, you can't be here…who are you?" the first paramedic said as he strained to hold the man back.

"That's my little boy. He needs me!" John cried as broke through and immediately dropped down onto his knees in front of the little boy who sat curled in a ball on the back end of the ambulance. "Sammy…it's Daddy, kiddo. You okay?"

The shaggy head slowly raised and Dean sucked in a horrified breath when he saw the dark bruise that was already forming across his baby brother's right cheek. Wide hazel eyes gazed at John then moved to Dean, the eyes suddenly filling with tears when the little boy realized that he was safe now. His family was here and he was safe. "Daddy?" he whispered as his little body began to shake.

"Yeah, squirt…it's Daddy…and Dean. You're safe, little man," John said as he scooped his little boy up into his arms and cradled him to his chest.

"Well, I guess that answers my question," the police officer said softly to the two paramedics who stood by, watching the scene.

Dean moved up to his father and brother and rested his hand on Sam's back. "Sammy, I'm so sorry," he said as tears began to trickle down his pale cheeks.

Sam pulled his head away from John's chest and gazed up at his big brother. "It's okay, Dean. I's did what's you an' Daddy tol' me to…I's bit that mean man and I's kicked him as hard as I's could…right in the bad place," he said, his eyes suddenly going wide with fear when a man's deep voice began to scream behind them.

Sam buried his face in his father's chest once again, his small body trembling with fear at hearing that voice again. John too began to shake, but his trembling was from absolute rage at the man who had tried to steal his baby away. He eased Sam into Dean's waiting arms and slowly rose from the asphalt. He made his way to where the screaming was coming, the subject of his searching hidden from view by one police car. He came around the car and saw two policemen trying the wrestle a large man into a waiting police van, but the man was fight tooth and nail to escape. John's hands fisted at his sides and he lost all rationality when he remembered the bruise on Sam's face.

"You son of a bitch!" he screamed as he lunged at the man, not caring about the two officers who held him.

John was on the man in an instant, his fist flying, the man crying out in pain as each fist connected with another part of his body. It took minutes for three police officers to pull the seething father off of his son's would be abductor, the hunter spitting fire as he was finally dragged away from the bleeding, whimpering man. The man was pulled up from the ground, his cold blue eyes finding John. He smiled through his torn lips, his teeth coated in blood and then he spoke.

"You want to know what I was going to do to that pretty little boy of yours? We would have had so much fun," he hissed evilly, flinching as John tried to lunge at him again, the man barely held back by the three officers.

"You better hope they never let you out, you sick son of a bitch, because if they do let, I'll kill you. I'll rip your heart out of your chest and shove it down your f***ing throat!" John seethed as he fought to break free.

The man merely laughed as he was forced into the police van, the doors slamming shut, thus saving him from another vicious beating. The officers released John, but kept a close eye on him as he continued to stare at the van. He finally turned to the officer to his right and sighed. "Are you going to arrest me?" he asked, his dark eyes moving to look at Dean as the young boy came up to him, his baby brother held tightly to his chest.

"For what?" the officer asked as he allowed room for the boys.

John reached down and took Sam from Dean's arms. He held the now sleeping boy close to his chest and lowered his head to tenderly kiss the top of his head. He looked back up and smiled sadly. "For beating the crap out of that f***er," he answered quietly.

"Really? I didn't see any of that. Hank, did you see this man beat the tar out of that suspect?" the officer responded.

The other officer shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. "I didn't see anything. I think the guy fell. Tripped over his own two feet," Hank replied.

John smiled appreciatively as he gazed down at his sleeping child. "Can I take him home?" he asked as he looked back up again.

"Once you have the medics take a look at him, you're free to go. Just leave us your phone number and address so we can reach you," Hank said with a smile of his own.

"Thanks," John said then moved back toward the ambulance and the waiting paramedics.

Fifteen minutes later, John was driving toward the motel they currently called home, Dean in the backseat with his brother cradled once again next to his chest. The boy had been cleared of any serious injury, more shaken up than physically hurt. Finally, they pulled up outside the door to their room and John cut the engine then exited the car. He opened the back door and carefully eased Sam out of Dean's arms. He handed Dean the key to the room and once the door was opened, he carried Sam to the bed furthest from the door and gently laid him down on the warn bedspread. He pulled the bedspread off of the other bed and draped it over his sleeping child, his fingers tenderly brushing over the bruise that covered the side of his face. He sat down next to his baby and held back the tears that threatened to fall. He had come so close to losing him. Both he and Dean had. He shuddered to think of what would have happened to the little boy if the man had succeeded in getting him into his van and out of the mall parking lot. He looked up when he felt the presence of his eldest son standing next to him.

"Hey, kiddo…you okay?" he asked when he saw that Dean was crying.

"I'm sorry, Dad. This is all my fault. Sammy…he could have…we could have lost him forever. I never should have let him go off on his own. I didn't think he would, but he must have really had to go," the boy said brokenly, his green eyes drifting to his little brother.

"You're right…you shouldn't have let him go off on his own, but this isn't your fault, Dean," John said, his arm snaking around his son's shoulders before pulling the boy to his side.

Dean glanced over at him, his eyes widening with confusion. "What? But I…"

"I shouldn't have left you to watch over him for so long. I lost track of time. I count on you, Dean and you never let me down…"

"I did this time, Dad. I was more interested in a video game."

"Look…I lost Sam before. Never told you because I was too embarrassed. I know that things happen," John said, smiling when Dean's eyes stared up at him in shock.

"You lost him? No way," he said with disbelief.

"Yep…I did. One minute he was there and the next minute he wasn't. Happened when I took him to the park and you stayed at the motel when we were in Yakima. You were watching some show and didn't want to come," John explained.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. What happened today is just a reminder of how careful we have to be. Not all threats come from something supernatural. I know you're just a kid and sometimes you just want to have some fun and there's nothing wrong with that, but Sammy's got to come first…always. He can't defend himself…he needs us to keep him safe."

"I know, Dad. I promise, I'll never let him out of my sight again. But, you know, Dad…"

"What?"

"I think he proved that he can defend himself. He kicked that guy in the nads…that's how he got away."

John chuckled then turned his gaze to his baby, smiling down at the boy with great affection and pride. "You're right, kiddo. He did, didn't he?"

"Yep, he's a Winchester alright. Five years old and he takes out a guy ten times his size," Dean said with admiration in his voice.

John smiled as Dean opened his mouth in a big yawn, the boy covering his mouth with his hand. "Hey…why don't you climb under there with Sammy and get a bit of sleep. I'll wake you when it's time to get dinner," he said as he gave the boy a playful nudge.

"I…okay, I guess I am a little tired," Dean said before he crawled up on the bed and scooted under the covers. He wrapped an arm protectively over his brother and gently pulled the boy to his chest. It took only a few minutes before he was sleeping soundly, leaving John to ponder the terrifying happenings of the day.

John stood then looked down at his two boys. He leaned over and tenderly kissed each forehead then sat back onto his own bed. He watched his boys sleep and silently vowed that nothing like this would ever happen to either of his sons ever again. He'd kill anyone or anything that tried to take his boys away from him. Everything he valued lay sleeping on the bed next to him…his whole reason for living covered by an ugly, worn bedspread. They deserved so much more. They deserved to live in a house with a white picket fence and a dog running around the yard and a mom baking cookies in the oven. John couldn't give them that, as much as he wanted to, but he could make sure that nothing ever tried to take them from him again. He'd die first before he let anything or anyone hurt either of his boys.

John looked one more time at his boys then settled back against the headboard of his bed. He had a few hours before it would be time to get dinner and he was going to relish the time he had to just watch and listen as his sons slept. He smiled sadly as he gazed up toward heaven, his heart still heavy with grief.

"You'd have been so proud of them, Mary. So very, very proud," he whispered as one lone tear rolled lazily down his cheek.

**The End**

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**That's it. I hope you'll tell me what you thought.**

**Cindy**


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